


be mine (at least pretend to be)

by youngerdrgrey



Category: Queen Sugar (TV)
Genre: 30 x 31 Writing Challenge, F/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 07:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngerdrgrey/pseuds/youngerdrgrey
Summary: Charley needs to get this cop to leave her alone. For real.+written forday 23 of 30 x 31 challenge;prompt:fake relationship





	be mine (at least pretend to be)

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Charley sips at her latte in the High Yellow. Iced, though she’d gone and gotten her own glass when Roberta wasn’t paying attention. Between the mill opening and having to move, she doesn’t take as much time to relax as she wishes she could. A nice iced latte in a warm diner is exactly what she needs to unwind.

“Excuse me.” It’s not a question, but a statement. A request. Charley glances up without giving her whole body over to it. Fingers collecting condensation on the glass, lips set in a straight line, and the police officer standing above her doesn’t seem to mind that all. She needs a few blinks to place him as the cop who nearly brought Ralph Angel into the station the other night. He’d only held off once she flirted with him a little. She paints on a smile quick enough to appease him, and his whole face lights up.

“Hello. It’s good to see you again,” she says.

He nods, quick and fast, and his hat’s already scrunched between his fingers at his chest. He tries holding her gaze, which lasts about four seconds too long for this to be a friendly check in. His cheeks sit up too high for it to be about her brother either. He says, “It’s good to see you again too. You’re popping up everywhere these days. Though you stand out, of course. Everywhere you go.”

She lets her lips come back together but keeps her eyebrows up. A nice way to feign interest even as her actual interest goes back down to her drink. “Thank you.”

He nods again. “I’m actually real glad to see you again. I had heard through some whispers that you were getting divorced.” He starts talking faster. “I’m not trying to step on any toes, but I figured that if you needed anyone during this time, I could offer some support.” He punctuates his sentence with another smile her way.

Hers falls. Accepting his support couldn’t possibly be anything but a headache. Not only is she not attracted to him, but Micah — he disappears into himself at the mere thought of the police now. All light, all love and care and sign of life just vanishes. She could never. But she also knows men like this one, who see one smile from a woman as a sign of interest and who rarely accept rejection. The easiest way to handle a man like this is to give him an opponent and watch him back down.

She meets his eyes again. “Actually, I have all the support I need.” Then, as obviously as she can, she darts her eyes to the bar counter where Remy’s sipping his morning coffee. He and she might not necessarily be anything right now, but it’s not like the officer will care. Remy’s strong. Capable with broad shoulders and a sincerity that’s palpable even from across the room. His biceps bulge when he bends his arm to bring the coffee to his lips. He even smiles into the cup, like he wants for nothing but this moment.

“A farmer,” the cop says. By the time Charley brings herself back to him, he eyes her that dejected understanding. His distaste stains him though. Lowers his cheeks and only tightens the grip he has on his hat.

“Irrigation specialist,” she corrects, but she nods after saying that. Remy’s a farmer too. It’s a worthy profession, even without the added labels. Her father was a farmer his whole life. A man of the land and a man of true substance. Remy could be the same way. She hopes he’s the same way. “But thank you, for the offer."

Remy must notice the attention. He glances over during another sip. His body reacts to her before his mind catches up. A hitch in his chest upward, a pull of his lips into a grin. Then he registers the police officer. Clocks that in and shifts in his chair to head her way.

The officer hesitates. “You’re not sitting together.”

But Remy’s already on the move with his cup in hand. He comes up on the other side of her table, opposite the officer, and smiles down at her with those perfect teeth of his. So unabashed even as they’ve both agreed that they’re taking their time, giving her space to mourn.

“Morning,” Remy says.

“Morning,” she echoes. “This is the officer who came by the house the other night. He’s so kind to offer his support for the family.”

Remy offers his hand out. “That’s real nice of you. The Landrys have been poking around the farm, so some help wouldn’t be a bad thing. Right, Charley?”

She hums rather than responding. Plucks Remy’s coffee cup from his hand and sips at it as if it’s normal. He’s easy on the milk but heavy on the sugar. Almost as decadent as she is in that regard. The cop recognizes the simplicity, the ease and comfort, and brings his hands with his hat back down to his sides without ever shaking Remy’s.

He says, “I’ll look into it. You have a good morning.” Then leaves without another word.

Remy doesn’t sit until the officer’s gone. Even then, he sits with his back too straight and his ears alert. “I thought you might want some help.”

“Thank you.” She inches his mug back over to his side of the table and grips onto hers so she won’t grab his hands. “Really.” Her words seem to put him at least a little more at ease. His shoulders relax. His eyes find hers. If her heart beats faster, she’ll blame it on the coffee. If she falls in love, she’ll blame it on the lie.

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End file.
